Heroic Hearts Don’t Just Beat, They Echo…

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Today we return to the 101 Freeway, to conclude the journey of our real-life superheroes.

If you missed last week’s story, Part 1 of this amazing tale, just scroll on down to have a read before you continue on with this one.

I hope all my fellow Americans have a wonderful Thanksgiving on Thursday, and I’ll see everyone on Friday, for another story of substance:)

By

Rico Lamoureux

All Rights Reserved.

As if the commuters on the Hollywood 101 weren’t stunned enough, they became downright dumbfounded when they saw five superheroes rushing past their stalled vehicles and towards the center of the accident, some even looking around for movie cameras.

But for the 5 it was all too real, now having to jump over car hoods and rooftops to get to the bus, the terrorists doing the same.

With his agility and speed Peter was the first one to make it, taking up position about six feet from the bus, blocking the only clear route the two extremists had. One just had two more cars to clear before they’d be face-to-face with him, the other more heavier and therefore still a couple of lanes away.

This distance between the two bad guys encouraged Peter, Storm and Wonder Woman now by his side, catching their breath, Batman and Superman car-hopping their way towards number two. Maybe they really did have a shot at stopping these guys!

The look on the first terrorist’s face when he looked up to find three world-famous superheroes standing there waiting for him was one of pure perplexity, the surreal moment he took to process enough time for Peter to lunge for him…

A half dozen cars over Batman and Superman were closing in on number two, the bad guy pulling out a gun and firing off a few rounds to keep them at bay…

The scuffle with the first terrorist was getting ugly, the brutal realism of my life or yours being a lot more grittier than the clean choreography of a Hollywood movie.

Hitting…

Scratching…

Gouging…

As the three tried to subdue him on the hood of a Mini Cooper…

Superman had counted seven bullets so far, half of which came way too close to taking them out while they crouched behind a Volvo. He had no idea what kind of gun it was or how much ammo it held, for he was just a normal guy. All five were just that— average everyday people just trying to make a living, the only thing unique about them, their Hollywood Boulevard job.

Just as all seemed lost a guy popped up from around the Mercedes in front of them.

“Will this help at all?” he asked.

He held out a tire iron.

Batman grabbed it, the two ol’ friends knowing it was their only hope, his years back as a high school star quarterback possibly being the lifesaver they needed to gain the upper hand…

It felt like a bad dream, Peter whaling on the first terrorist with all his might, the blows seeming to have no effect, the guy’s iron grip refusing to release from Wonder Woman’s screaming face. Being three against one, it was a tactic of desperation to focus on one adversary at a time, the terrorist shoving his thumb as deep as it would go into her eye socket, Storm biting down on his wrist so hard it drew blood…

Superman held his breath as he baited number two, trying to give the shooter a glance at his shoulder, his hand, his leg, while at the same time trying not to get shot as he ran dunking down behind cars, hoping it would give Batman the one opportunity to go for the Hail Mary…

Peter’s thigh began to feel warm and tingly as he wrestled with the first terrorist, he and Storm now on the pavement with their bad guy, Wonder Woman no longer in the fight, but instead off to the side and in shock, unable to find anything in her now empty eye socket.

Peter didn’t want to look down, his survival instincts trying to steer all focus to the enemy, but his leg- He felt like he was losing the use of it He had to glance-

It was covered in blood, slashed open a few inches deep.

He looked back up just in time to catch sight of the small but razor-sharp pocket knife being thrust into Storm’s throat…

Batman looked five yards out to number two, eagle-eyeing the side of his head as the terrorist kept firing rounds trying to take out Superman.

He brought the tire iron up above his shoulder, used his other hand to aim and balance, then whipped it forward in a powerful release.

Down went number two.

He and Superman were on top of their adversary within three seconds, the guy dazed but still conscious.

He couldn’t have been any older than them, mid-twenties, switching from English with an American accent to Arabic with such ease.

“It’s for our brothers and sisters who have suffered.

“Alhamdulillah.”

He was fumbling his hands over his chest, searching. Did he think he had been shot?

Jacket now open, the two superhero characters saw what was underneath it, two seconds too late.

It was a suicide vest.

“Alhamdulillah…”

The energy from the blast blew Peter off the first terrorist and into the side of a limousine.

For a few seconds his vision was blurred, and his ears unable to hear anything but a piercing ring.

Once he was able to collect his bearings he saw the terrorist, wobbly but on his feet, closing in on the school bus. Beyond this he saw the square window, his little Spidey soul mate looking out at him with tears in his eyes.

This gave Peter the last surge of adrenaline he needed to finish this asshole once and for all. With determination rushing through his veins he shot up, feeling like he was gliding over the short distance between them before latching on to the terrorist’s face from the back and pulling his head down to the pavement with such force that it really would have equaled the power of any superhero.

As the evildoer twitched his final moments of life away Peter had somewhat of an outer-body-experience. He wasn’t dying, his perspective just somehow transcending to a spiritual form, for only just a few moments, high above the brutality, the loss, his three deceased friends letting him know how proud they were of him, and how he just needed to continue on, for his sake, for her sake, for their sake.

All told to him not through words, but by way of the heart, the soul.

He then returned to the young fit body that was lying out on the 101, grateful for the life he and Wonder Woman still had.